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THE CONSCRIPT.

WHERE sleep'st thou now? the sunset tints are fading,
And night is gath'ring o'er the azure sky;

Faint curling mists are objects dim o'ershading,
And winds are singing low their lullaby.

Where sleep'st thou now? the trump has ceas'd its sounding,
The war-note deep is hush'd the hills among:

And purple vintage grounds are now resounding
With festive glee, breath'd forth in many a song.

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RUNNING THE

BLOCKADE.

BY NED BUNTLINE.

DURING the latter part of 1838, by reason of troubles existing between the two governments, a large squadron of French ships-ofwar was stationed along the Mexican coast, for the purpose of enforcing the blockade declared by France. In consequence of this measure, provisions, and such articles as had hitherto been imported into the Mexican sea-ports, became very scarce, and the high prices which were demanded offered strong inducements to our enterprising, moneyloving countrymen to out-wit the keen-eyed Frenchmen, and in defiance of their blockade to supply the interdicted ports.

One of these adventurous exploits came immediately under my own observation; and anticipating the reader's permission, I will reel off the yarn for his edification. It occurred while I was cruising in the sloop of war Boston, under the gallant old Captain BABBIT, who was one of the officers of the old Philadelphia, when she was captured by the Algerines. Apropos of my revered old commander: there comes up always, when I recall him, his standing toast; the only one he ever gave after his release from imprisonment: The downfall of the barbarous Moors!" On all occasions, whenever he was called upon for a sentiment, this was given. We were once dining with the celebrated ESPELETA, Governor. General of Cuba, who did not understand a word of English. As the wine passed around, Captain Babbit was called upon for a sentiment. He gave as usual, The downfall of the barbarous Moors,' which, creating unusual merriment among all who understood him, caused the governor to require its translation. To judge from the governor's appearance, it must have touched him nearly, for his complexion clearly betrayed his Arabic descent. But I am yawing off my course.

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After a cruise of four or five months in the Gulf, we hauled up for Tampico, to look once more on terra-fima, and to fill our water-tanks. On coming to anchor in the roadstead, we found the French corvette Creole, commanded by the Prince de Joinville, and a brig of the same nation, moored in front of the river. The bar of Tampico is too shallow to admit vessels of heavy draught, which are obliged to anchor in the open roads outside, and on the approach of a gale are forced to get under way and give the shore a wide berth. The blockading craft were anchored barely out of reach of the guns mounted on Castle San Marco, in a situation to intercept any vessel attempting to enter the harbor. After we came to and furled sails, the usual salutes were exchanged, visits of etiquette paid, and the launch hoisted out, preparatory to watering ship.

Having nothing with which to occupy myself, and not intending to visit the town before the next day, I took my sketch-book and pencil, and ascended to the main-top, designing to sketch the entrance of the

river. I stowed myself away on a spare studding-sail, and commenced the outline of the beautiful landscape; but I was interrupted by old Marline, the captain of the top, with:

'Them Johnny Crapeaus have got an eye out to windward, lieutenant. That there' Grey-owl,' as they call her, is talking bunting' (i. e. signalling) to the brig; and there go her hands aloft to loose her canvass, Sir.'

I cast my eyes toward the brig, and at once perceived that she was heaving up her anchor. A second look to seaward explained the cause of this manœuvre. On the extreme verge of the windward horizon a small white speck appeared, seeming but a floating cloudlet resting between the light blue of the clear sky and the deep azure of the

ocean.

The brig was soon under way, and piling the canvass on her tall spars, she hauled on a taut bowline in the direction of the strange sail. Sending Marline below for my spy-glass, I was now enabled with its aid to make the stranger out. She appeared to be of brigantine size, and by the way she rose in the horizon, I judged her to be a fastsailing clipper. There was a light sky-sail breeze ruffling gently over the waters from seaward, but not blowing hard enough to make the anchored vessels tend head to wind against ebb tide; therefore we lay bows in toward the harbour.

The brigantine rapidly neared the French brig, and while my eye was fixed on her rakish rig, and the beautiful cut of her square sails, her colors rose to the gaff. I at once distinguished the flag of the lonestar republic.' The Frenchman had got within hail of the stranger, and apparently satisfied with his appearance, had squared away, and under a cloud of snow-white canvass the two vessels came in side by side. How beautiful is a ship, decked in her snowy robes and flaunting streamers, bending gracefully over the gently undulating bosom of the ocean, as she parts the blue waves and throws the foam in silvery sheets in her wake! The outline of her tapering spars, her dark threadlike rigging, and broad sails thrown out in bold relief against the sky; the variety of colors, each softened down into the other, are, in my mind, beautiful exceedingly.'

The two vessels neared the anchorage: suddenly the French brig clewed up her fore and main-sails, the Texan banner fluttered from her fore-mast-head, and her guns opened a salute to the brigantine. As the brigantine swept smoothly on, an involuntary buzz of admiration rose from our crew, as they gazed on her sylph-like beauty. She was evidently Baltimore-built, her spars very taut and rakish, her hull long and low in the water, with bows that seemed to pass through the waves without a ripple. Apparently she had but a small crew, some ten or fifteen seamen only being actively occupied in working her, and a few redcoated marines leaning with professional stiffness against the masts and bulwarks. Three or four officers also appeared at their usual stations; and as we knew the difficulties of shipping men in that nonpayment service, we were not surprised to see her so poorly manned. A long brass thirty-two pounder, working on a pivot amid ships, and masked port-holes along her sides, were symptoms of a sharp set of teeth, which

gave her the cut of a dangerous customer. As soon as the Frenchman fired the last gun of his salute, he clewed up every thing and came to in the berth he had left. The brigantine kept on close under our lee, without shortening sail; as she passed, answering our hail, as the Texan brig of war Brazzos, commander Charles E. Hawkins.' She had also hoisted the French flag forward, and we were expecting to see her come to, and answer the salute of the Frenchman, when suddenly altering her course, she luffed short across the bows of the Creole, and headed in for the fort, intending apparently to cross the bar. While we were wondering at her temerity in thus venturing under the guns of an enemy's fort, the Texan flag was hauled down, the star-spangled banner floated in its place, and at the foremost head the Mexican flag was hoisted above the French.

This was more than the Frenchmen could bear. To be thus tricked out of a salute, their blockade broken under their very noses, and their half-worshipped tri-color hoisted beneath the Mexican flag, was too gall. ingly insulting for their fiery natures. The brigantine had hauled up so as to bring their masts in range, and as they swung to the tide not a gun could be brought to bear from their decks upon her, while she stretched boldly across the bar. The confusion of Babel must have been great if it exceeded that which uprose from the angry Frenchmen. First one and then the other slipped their cables and made sail so as to bring their broadsides to bear on the daring stranger; but they were too late, and in their hurry got a foul of each other, only throwing a few harmless shot over and around the brigantine, which soon rounded the high bluffs of Punta Tañupeco, leaving them to get clear of each other and seek their old anchorage again.

The excitement of the scene had thrown all idea of sketching out of my head; and having an old acquaintance on board the Creole, I determined to pay him a visit, having a middy-like desire to witness the workings of the bitter pill they had swallowed. After getting on board and exchanging the usual salutations and inquiries, we adjourned to the mess-room, where a bottle of claret was introduced, as well as the subject of running the blockade!' To do justice to my French friend, I must give the conversation to my readers as it occurred verbatim et literatum.

'My ver goot fren, you see dat dam rascality Yankee-doodale fellow laff de grande prince, de grande nation, de whole blockade, all in de ver face?'

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Vy, sacre- dat leetle

'Yes, Serraic, I saw it all; but why did you let him pass?' 'Let him pass, by gar! LET him pass, you say, eh? mil-tonnere! he say he one- - foutre ! vat you call him? republique, vat fight all Mexique ?' Texas.'

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Oh, by gar,

Ah yes, Texas - Texas man-o'-war he say himself. de grande prince he mad ver moosh! Mil tonnere! how he swear Anglice, ven he see de coortain of glory, la belle tri-color, hang up all same like one deesh-clout under de dirty flag de Mexique! He say he watch for dat dam Yankee-doodale canneille bugare all eternitee, till he

catch him. He no nevare come out dees port 'gain, vidout ve catch him!'

This I found out to be the actual determination of the blockading squadron; not to move from the port till they succeeded in capturing the American.

I returned on board, and the next morning started for the city, feeling a strong desire to see and make the acquaintance of one so much after my own heart as the man who had planned and executed this bold manœuvre. Tampico is situated on a river of the same name, about seven miles from its mouth. With its narrow unpaved streets, strong prison-like houses closely planted together, it stands as a fair specimen of the old style of Spanish cities. It lies on a green plain which gently slopes up from the river side, and every knoll in the vicinity is fortified and garrisoned. We entered the river at the moment that the sun arose, dispelling the fog-mantle that enveloped the banks of the clear stream. The row was delightfully pleasant, as we pursued our way up the winding stream, the fresh morning air bearing us the grateful perfume of fruit and flowers on its cooling wings. After rowing about an hour, we turned around a point, and before us lay the town. Anchored in the stream, lay our friend the Baltimorean, surrounded by boats filled with bartering natives. As we pulled alongside of her, I beheld beneath the shady im of an enormous Panama hat a face weather-bronzed yet ruddy with a good-humored expression that seemed familiar to me. I drew near, a smile of recognition settled upon it, that at once illumined

As

the dimness of memory. It was my old school-mate and friend Will

Allen.

'Thundering tritons! Will, is that you?' was my exclamation as I sprang over the low bulwarks and landed in the friendly embrace of his brawny arms.

'Well, Allen, you are the last fellow that I expected to meet in these cruising grounds,' said I, as soon as I could regain my breath and the power of utterance which he had squeezed out of ine.

'I suppose you are astonished to see me on salt-water, Ned, but I knew you were aboard the old Boston, and of course expected to cross your hawse somewhere in these latitudes. I owe you an apology for not paying my respects to you last night, but I had no time to stop. By the way, speaking of that, what did the Frenchmen say at my not answering their salute?'

Why, they are going to catch and keel-haul you if you try to come out; so, you had better stay in port till they break up and clear out.' 'Well, now, don't I wish they may do it, all but the catching part! Why, confound the soup-drinking lubbers, I have n't shown them half what my little 'Nella' can do yet. I'll bet my eyes to a bucket of tar that I go out as I came in, with my colors flying, looking them right in the teeth.'

6

You had better be careful, Will; they are on the look out for you: but where is your long-tom that you had mounted on a pivot yesterday?' said I, looking in vain for the gun.

There it lies on the forecastle, alongside the heel of the bowsprit ; it's only a pine log, shaped like a gun and painted yellow. I thought

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